And The Rest Is
by EXNativo
Summary: A shortage of coffee at Beacon means Doctor Oobleck has to teach a class without the help of his precious caffeine. History is always interesting, and perhaps for the first time, the history teacher will be too. No longer a one-shot. Borderline crackfic.
1. Chapter 1

Usually, nothing could stop history from being interesting.

As certain as oxygen and sustenance, so too was history a vital part of survival and culture. Windows to the past for all to look through and learn from; highlights of the past and foundations for the future. Every object in existence, if even for a moment, had its own history. A past, from which it could be granted a future of its own construction.

Never, so long as something could keep moving forth, would history run dry. From reverence to disdain, every second had its own emotion to document. A lesson to be learned, a warning to heed and a risk to take.

It was borderline impossible to void absorption in alternate eras. For an individual to feel no compulsion to scrutinise antiquity was almost unheard of. The odds of such a person existing were generally so low that it wouldn't be worth making the history to calculate them.

Despite it all, not a single student attending Beacon could find an interest in history. Not the upperclassmen and woman in their fourth year, nor the two years closest to them. Any who had only just been inaugurated for their first year of schooling would quickly find themselves wishing for another way to spend their time, any passion they once held evaporating, any engrossment in the subject of study barely an oasis on the horizon.

And all from the effort of one man- no, one _doctor_.

Bartholomew Oobleck was a spectacular historian, of that there was no doubt. The focus, the passion, everything he would ever need for success in the field had been found within him even from a young age; a calling from the universe itself for what he would end up doing with his life. His duties as a Huntsman had led him across the globe, his interactions with the younger or less informed members of whatever team he would find himself on eventually leading to his discovery of the final in his triumvirate of joyous occupations.

He had been a prodigy when he was young, a sagacious paragon in his education days, and a genius ever since. His material was good, backed by years of study and experience. When it all came together, it should have been the textbook example of a picture perfect educator. A role he had taken to with much gusto, after Beacon had presented him the invitation.

There was just one enormous, glaring problem.

The man was too fast, in absolutely everything he did. Be it talking, moving, or even breathing, nobody who had yet to ascend to his level could hope to keep up. Which, of course, excluded absolutely every student under his tutelage.

What should have come across as an opportunity presented atop a platter came across as a chore. Classes that were designed to be heartfelt and enjoyable were entirely out of pace, their charm squandered on poor delivery. Student still attended, and students still passed, for what would be a school teaching teenagers to handle weapons and protect the public from a threat they could go years without seeing instill if not some responsibility?

But the passion was absent. Lessons were looked at with irritation or, even worse, apathy. Not even those most astute and diligent with their private studies could enjoy the knowledge he had to impart; for none could even understand any of it.

It was an unfortunate state of affairs. A veritable shame, for Doctor Oobleck PhD could never seem to slow down, no matter what feedback and criticism he would ascertain from his lectures.

At least, that had been the status quo, until that morning.

 **XxX**

If Jaune were going off boredom alone, he would have elected Grimm Studies as the worst class he was being forced to suffer through at Beacon. If he were to include any other factor… Grimm Studies would still likely be his least favourite, but History would be a very close second. Come to think of it, there weren't actually any classes he was very thrilled to be a part of; everything he did in the lecture halls felt more like a way to idle away time than to actually learn something, a concerning conclusion to come to when attending what was reputed as one of, if not the, best school for Hunters and Huntresses in all the Kingdoms.

But that wasn't something to concern himself with now. Skidding to a halt outside the portal to the next couple of hours of torture, Jaune pushed the door open, sliding the note from Professor Port that would excuse his tardiness back into his pocket. He wouldn't need it, considering there was still half a minute until class officially started, and Pro- _Doctor_ Oobleck hadn't seemed to have arrived yet.

Though the man leaning against the desk at the front of the room did look somewhat familiar. Tilting his head to the side slightly, Jaune stepped through the threshold, heading towards the seat that Pyrrha had offered to save for him as he examined the man at the front of the classroom. He didn't look very old, maybe a fourth year student that had been held back once, which would probably explain why he looked to be asleep in a room he very obviously didn't belong in.

Speaking of the room, it was oddly silent, devoid of the conversations all speculating towards what the approaching class could be about. Sliding into his seat next to Pyrrha, Jaune opened his mouth to greet her, only to leave it hanging upon realising that she, as well as the rest of his team, as well as Team RWBY who had taken the seats next to them, were all staring towards the front of the classroom with expressions ranging from shock to outright disbelief.

Oh man, this wasn't someone _else_ famous that he really should have recognised, was it? It that was the case then it was totally unfair, he knew for a fact that this guy had never been on a cereal box!

Abandoning the sentence he had been about to say; an optimistic comment about his chances of actually being able to take notes down this time that would very quickly devolve into a bitter and sarcastic mumble, Jaune turned back to the front of the room, his movement coinciding perfectly with the bell as it rang and signalled the start of class. The stranger's eyes cracked open, giving Jaune a glance of the most vibrant shade of blue he had ever seen on a person's features.

Now, while Beacon may not have been the best place to state absolutes, Jaune was perfectly happy to identify himself as a heterosexual male whom had never felt the desire to experiment with his preferences. That being said, when the bell stopped tolling and Yang's reverent whisper of, "holy crap, he's _gorgeous_ ," reached his ears, Jaune readily agreed with her observation. The man's features were sharp, from his eyes down to the collarbone visible through the unbuttoned top of his shirt. A reflection of light caught Jaune's eyes and he let his gaze fall, onto the round glasses that were sitting atop an unused tie, placed right beside where the man's hand had been resting…

Jaune almost choked on the breath he had just taken. No way. There was no way.

"Good morning, class." What was, without question, Doctor Oobleck's voice came out of the man's mouth. "My apologies for the slow start of this lesson, but I'm afraid that Beacon's last shipment of coffee was postponed over the weekend. It is rather difficult for me to find any energy without my caffeine, especially after two days, but I shall have to try my best."

The voice had been unmistakable, even slowed down from its usual unintelligible babble and into something smooth and perhaps even alluring. Many students rubbed their eyes. Several stuck a finger in their ears as an attempt to clean them out. Jaune just kept on staring right on through as Oobleck pushed himself off the desk and stretched his arms above his head, letting his untucked shirt ride up and show off his two lowermost abs.

Jaune didn't want to know why Yang chose that moment to groan. He knew exactly why anyway, but he didn't want to.

"I hadn't thought the withdrawal symptoms had been that obvious. Truly I must look a sight to garner such a reaction from you all." Oobleck ran a hand through his emerald locks, having neglected to fix his shirt in any way whatsoever. There was a muffled clang from outside the door as a student who had been making their way past the room happened to look inside and subsequently ran into a pole. "Where did we finish off last time, does anyone… ah, never mind, I believe we were discussing the origins of the Kingdoms."

Silence continued to reign supreme, silence that had nothing to do with the fact that nobody in the room actually knew the answer to the question Oobleck had been about to ask. A few people, those whose brains were among the first to reignite their engines nodded hastily, elbowing their friends and neighbours in an attempt to wake them up. From where he was sitting, Jaune could see someone with their scroll out and ready to record, something he was only able to notice after a quick shake of his shoulder courtesy of his partner.

"What should be a good starting point for the Kingdoms? Ah, yes, perhaps I should start by saying that the four Kingdoms were founded perhaps over even a hundred years ago." It was common knowledge at worst, something students starting their first year at any civilian school would know of, but the novelty of actually having knowledge imparted unto them by Doctor Oobleck made it worth writing down.

It was a good thing everyone was now paying attention. Beacon's reputation surely would have suffered had the students been caught off guard by Oobleck's next sentence; a mass outbreaks of strokes could put a damper on any situation.

"Yes, I've heard rumours of the first Kingdom being formed under the rule of the Schnee family, themselves being offshoots of a royal bloodline once thought completely extinct." Out of the corner of his eye, Jaune watched as Weiss straightened even further in her seat, her pen primed and ready for note-taking. For whatever reason, he had a feeling that something bad was about to happen. "Of course, the mere thought of such a thing being true is complete poppycock, spread through word of mouth and propagated by a family so desperate for even more fame than they currently repute that they would willingly mislead the people that have already given them everything they could ever desire… no offence intended, of course, Miss Schnee."

Weiss' face froze, the smile refusing to leave its place as she blinked a few dozen times down at her teacher. "…uh?"

"Yes, out of all the Schnees' I've come across, you have been the most tolerable. Remarkably so, almost grounds to be declared a miracle at work." Oobleck shook his head, planting his hands on his desk and using them as leverage while he lifted himself onto it. "But to actually make people believe that the formation of Kingdoms was _not_ a move made from desperation and casualty? No, not even all of your families' wealth could possibly purchase those people the intelligence they so obviously require."

Ruby quickly wrote something down in her notebook, and Weiss broke her stare just long enough to send her a betrayed glance.

 **XxX**

History had quickly become a favourite subject for the first year students of Beacon Academy over the course of the next hour, and Bartholomew Oobleck their new favourite teacher.

Perhaps he didn't have the exuberance and storytelling capabilities of Peter Port, or command the same amount of respect as Glynda Goodwitch, but what he didn't (currently) have in energy or esteem, Doctor Oobleck made up for it in droves with his unfailing ability to mock absolutely everything without bothering to change his tone.

Nothing escaped unscathed from his attention. Any flaw in all four Kingdoms that hadn't been touched upon had simply been too hidden. Every company that had participated in some way to shape Remnant into what it had become had their pasts dissected and disembolwed, their embarrassments laid bare for the entire first year class to see. Not even Beacon's initiation had been spared, with the first Board of Directors' and Headmaster's abysmal actions being put on full display, with special mentions going to how their attempted Dust ban against Faunus had almost triggered another world war and set off countless Grimm incursions.

History may have been written by the winners, but when the person in charge of teaching it had gone out to discover all of their material themselves, nothing was omitted, down to the smallest footnote. It was enthralling, it was entertaining, it was educational… it was downright bizarre.

It was _absolutely brilliant_.

"There was a time, long before any living memory today, where Faunus had taken it upon themselves to keep their human allies protected. Indeed, being so much closer to nature in general, they were the first to discover how to call forth and manipulate Aura, the very power all beings with souls naturally possess and produce." From somewhere near the back of the class, Jaune heard Cardin snort loudly, the noise unmistakable in whom it had come from. Still seated atop his desk, Oobleck's eyes narrowed slightly, his hands drifting a bit further to the sides and his index fingers tapping a random chorus out onto the wood.

"Ah yes, Faunus and humans used to be so much closer than we are today. While they always did see themselves and each other as separate species, it is believed that much of the animosity between the two can be tracked down to a single person; one Duke Winchester."

Only adding to the learning experience was one small, seemingly innocuous titbit of information the entirety of the class had very easily picked up about their teacher. Whether it was a result of his current torpor or a characteristic they had simply never been able to notice before, when it came to that which he cared about (history of course notwithstanding), Doctor Oobleck could be absolutely ruthless. And, as many of them had at least suspected, Oobleck cared a great deal about equality.

If Jaune were a lesser man, he would have taken some joy in hearing Cardin choke on his own spit. As it stood, he merely added another line to his notes, officially starting off his third page that day with Cardin's family name, followed by a frowning face.

"Yes, there are many different interpretations of events that have been passed around over the years. Some say that he suspected his Faunus maid of theft. Another tale is he had her executed after discovering the affair she was having with his son, who had been no younger than twenty at the time." Oobleck raised a hand to his mouth and tilted it, glancing down in confusion a second later. Letting out a sigh, the hand fell back to the desk, impacting the wood with a little more force than necessary. That was the fifth time it had happened in the last half hour; it was fairly clear that the good doctor was missing his caffeine. "Whichever interpretation is correct, what is known for sure is the army he led through his settlement the next day, and the rivers of blood that ran from a nearby Faunus camp. Word spread through communities, Faunus retaliated, and thus was perpetuated a cycle of violence that has spiralled out of control to this very day."

Oobleck propped a leg up onto his desk, resting an elbow against his knee and letting his head fall into his waiting hand. "That is thousands of lives torn to shreds, all to satisfy the ego of one man. Historians, myself included, still debate whether the attack had any basis in the first place. Was there even a Faunus maid, or was she just an excuse? We don't know, and perhaps we never will."

Nobody in the room spoke. It didn't sound like anyone was even moving. Jaune's pencil hovered over his page, before slowly lowering down to the paper.

He added angry eyebrows to the frowny face.

"What are you all looking at me for!?" Jaune almost jumped in his seat, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Cardin. True to the other boy's word, many people in the classroom had turned to look at him, none of their stares showcasing any surprise. "I'm not the one who made my ancestor's choice!"

"Correct, you are not." Oobleck's response was swift, if quiet. His head was tilted to the side, resting against the arm that was still propped up over his knee, his eyes almost unnerving in their intensity as he stared across the classroom. Jaune heard Cardin gulp again, and idly wondered if he even had any saliva left at this point. "All you do is exacerbate a pre-existing problem with a view and behaviour that was considered abysmal and archaic before the Kingdoms had even been established. Stack accusation and shame upon people who once upon a time were the only reason your bloodline even had the chance to get this far. I wonder, Mr. Winchester, why it is you even attend this academy, when your words and actions are so perfectly adverse that which allow Hunters to survive upon this fractured world?"

Jaune almost felt bad for the boy in question at that very moment. Almost. But the time he could have spent thinking about Cardin was also time he could have spent improving his already impressive notes.

He added a pulsing vein to the frowny angry face.

Time well spent.

The bell that signified classes ending made Jaune glance up again, catching the end of what was apparently a very intense staring match. From where he was sitting, Oobleck yawned, running a hand through his hair once more before swinging his arms and pushing himself to his feet.

"Ah, well, that would be lunch. Once again, I apologise for how lethargic today's class must have been. Coffee shipments typically occur every Friday, so it shouldn't be too long before we return to the normal curriculum." Oobleck rolled up his sleeves, pushing his glasses and tie further along the desk before falling backwards and landing across the papers spread over his desk. "Now, never mind me, I'm going to have a little nap before afternoon classes begin. Dismissed."

Within two heartbeats, snores were resonating from the teacher's desk. In the silence that followed, Jaune looked down at all the notes he'd managed to take, a smile spreading across his face as he read the entry about a village Oobleck had mentioned while talking about settlements outside the four Kingdoms, one well known for their armour and swords.

"We should never let him drink coffee again." He mused quietly to himself as he stared down at the only notes he'd ever enjoyed taking. His sentence had been hushed, barely louder than a mumble, but apparently everyone else managed to hear it regardless.

"Agreed." Half the room chorused. The other half consisted of nods, grunts of confirmation, and Cardin.

Doctor Oobleck snored once more, grabbing his coffee cup and holding it close to his chest.

 **XxX**

 **A/N:** I'll admit, I've never seen RWBY. Just read some fanfiction and looked up a few clips on YouTube to see what looks like it could set sail. Just like Oobleck, I was not under the effects of caffeine while writing this. In fact, I'm going to label it as parody just to be sure. Don't ask where the idea came from, the answer is literally nowhere.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** No, I don't have any idea what I'm doing. Thank you for asking.

 **Disclaimer:** (Ō_ƆŎ)

* * *

"So there I was, my back against the wall, my weapon embedded in the lead Goliath's mask and out of my reach! The herd had me surrounded, swinging their tusks this way and that, every opening they made was closed off just as quickly! It was as though they were merely toying with me, using their superior numbers to make themselves look stronger than they really were, the dirty cowards!"

The staff room. Where the comfortable couches and the really good coffee blends of Beacon Academy spent their time. A safe haven for the teachers from those creatures of which shattered dreams and fractured emotions were born. The creatures of Grimm? Mere spearheads, illusions to hide away the true monsters that haunted the nightmares of all teachers whom had found themselves hired by the illustrious institution.

Adolescents.

"Yes, there was little I could do! My allies had all run, adhering to the plan that we had set up beforehand. Only one of us had to stay behind to attract the herd, or so I was thinking, until out of nowhere he appeared! His tail was magnificent, sleek and perfectly for suited for blah blah blah…"

Every school had their fundamental tenets. Most people would refer to them as rules, but considering Headmaster Ozpin's substantial lack of giving a shit about such things, as they got in the way of him doing whatever struck his fancy, a word that carried more weight had to be chosen.

No students in the staffroom. Broom closets are to be aired out after whatever activity they had unwittingly found themselves hosting was completed. Food was for sustenance, not foreplay.

"Smelled of cheese, he did. Not that that's a bad thing, I quite like cheese! And not just any cheese, oh no, he smelled of the good stuff. The expensive stuff. Of course, as it was the height of the war, he'd had to steal that cologne, but who was I to judge theft after being forced to blah blah blah…"

And, under absolutely any circumstances, to the threat of death and dismemberment, there was to be no stories in the staffroom.

"There I was, with blood on my hands, staring down in horror at the man in the suit. He stared back, or he would have if he wasn't dead. Then again, he could have been alive, though remarkably uncomfortable with my axe stuck in his skull. And then, before my very eyes, he began to dissolve!" The grip Glynda had on her riding crop redoubled, her knuckles popping as Peter and a green haired fourth year student so casually desecrated one of the hoy tenets of Beacon Academy. The student even had the nerve to take notes as Peter was speaking. "A Grimm wearing a uniform, you'd think we'd realise operative Supe Revil wasn't human the first time we caught him scratching himself, but what an actor he was! Having blood red eyes because he was albino and only ever grunting because he was drop kicked as a baby; marvellous cover story, I must say!"

Peter nodded to Glynda as she strolled further into the room, nothing in his expression suggesting he was recalled the loss of his precious facial hair after the last time he had so causally committed sacrilege. Launching right back into his story, he swivelled around in his seat, the student's hand moving at ungodly speeds across the paper as he glanced upwards.

"Good afternoon, Glynda." The – admittedly very attractive – student offered her a small smile as he ducked, one of Port's beloved exaggerated gestures sending his hand flying through where his head had just been. The reprimand that had been crawling up Glynda's throat was swallowed back, Peter's current ramblings ("A lawyer and a parakeet as parents? No wonder their child was born the scum of Remnant!") fading into background noise as she narrowed her eye at the suddenly very familiar face in front of her.

"…Bartholomew?"

"My apologies for breaking your rule. By the time I had remembered it, Peter here was already in the beginning stages of his story, and you know how difficult he is to relocate when that happens." With the hand that wasn't busy scribbling down notes, Oobleck swiped a coffee cup filled with water from the table (it had a pretty blue flower on the front), sending it flying out the open window beside him. Glynda stared after it as it curved unnaturally mid-air, not entire comprehending what she was watching as it disappeared into another open window down below. "Thank you very much, Peter. The human-Faunas wars are always such a volatile subject, I believe your expertise will be invaluable once I come upon some unfortunate but unfortunately not unforseen opposition over the duration of this topic."

"Not to worry, my lad!" Glynda almost jumped; she hadn't realised Peter had actually stopped talking. In all honestly, she wasn't even certain such a thing was possible. With a hearty laugh, Peter pushed himself out of his seat, patting imaginary dust from his shoulder as his gaze may or may not have fallen on the clock. It was difficult to tell for sure. "Now, as much as I hate to cut out time short, there's only one more minute left of lunch. I have to prepare for class, much like you should."

Oobleck hopped to his feet, his shirt catching a sudden breeze through the open window as he stretched. Not noticing it flutter upwards, he sent a lazy salute to Peter, turning on his heel to offer a nod and another small smile to Glynda before blurring out of the staffroom. The notes he had left on the table disappeared just as quickly, and Glynda's riding crop finally clattered to the ground as the afterimage Bartholomew had left behind faded away.

"Such a nice boy." Peter muttered to himself, catching the now half-filled coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) that the nice boy in question had initially thrown as it sailed back in through the open window and taking a swig from it. His stance was that of a warrior, trapped in an abyss of torrential intrigue, unequivocal mystique, and utter ignorance of his colleague's horrified expression. "Such a nice, familiar boy…"

 **XxX**

"I told you it was-"

Cardin's voice trailed off into an undignified squeak as a coffee cup full of water impacted with his groin, his fingers flying off Velvet's ear as he crumpled against the table. His now free hands were down to his crotch in a second, the tips brushing against the coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) as it bounced off his body and caught Russell in the nose.

Teams RWBY and JNPR watched from a table away with mild interest as the coffee cup bounced between the four members of Team CRDL like a pinball, somehow missing the rabbit Faunus girl with every pass. Aura protected them as best it could, after the four boys got their bearing about them enough to actually activate it, and after a moment the coffee cup was sailing back towards the open window, stopping in mid-air just long enough to pour half its contents onto the front of Cardin's pants before continuing on its way.

RDL escaped with bruises and, in one case, a mild concussion. C slid off the bench and fell to his knees, then rolled onto his back when they too gave out on him. If one were fluent in whatever language he was speaking, they could have translated his pained squeals to mean, "what the fuck," and, "why."

For a moment, there was silence. Or as much silence as there could be with Cardin announcing to the world the initiation of his reverse puberty.

"…So that happened." Yang shrugged, letting her chin fall back into her hands so she could continue listening to Nora's story.

Nobody else said anything, RWB and JNPR because the situation had already been summed up perfectly, and everyone else because they were nothing but silhouettes, and therefore lacked the mouths to make even the slightly vocalisation.

 **XxX**

"Ozpin, I am telling you, we need that shipment of coffee here _yesterday_!"

"Glynda, I am telling you that the situation is out of _my_ control. Every bullhead that attempts to carry a shipment up the cliff is shot down, no matter what evasive manoeuvres the pilots attempt to employ." Ozpin brought his cup to his lips, trying to ignore how salty the tears tasted as they slid and scratched down his throat. Salty was kind of like bitter, if you squinted while tilting your head, and the itch on the insides of his elbows was getting worse the longer he was forced to go without his fix. "I understand that desperate times call for desperate measures, but I cannot in good conscious order someone walk up the cliff face while carrying enough caffeine to alleviate the current crisis. Not after every establishment that sold coffee in Vale mysteriously closed down overnight."

"Risk versus reward, Ozpin! A de-caffeinated Bartholomew Oobleck is not something that can be allowed around children, regardless of their future careers!" Glynda paced around the office, waving her riding crop errantly with every step she took. Occasionally it would let out a spark. That spark would then go on to explode, forcing Glynda to fix whatever it damaged, only to let out another spark and perpetuate a cycle that began and ended with her. "You were there last time. He made Ironwood cry, and that was only after three hours!"

"To be fair, James referred to Bartholomew as a nerd. And he didn't make him cry, he just made him… leak. A little."

"From inside a different Kingdom. Using nothing but words. There was a hole in his tear duct, that kind of thing is not-"

"Glynda, it'll be fine." Ozpin grimaced down at his mug, setting it aside on his desk as he pushed himself to his feet. Grabbing his cane, he hobbled up to his office's window, watching with a raised eyebrow as a coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) flew across the school grounds, striking a silhouette whom had been pointing and laughing at another silhouette - that had a long tail - in the back of the shadow. "Has Mr. Winchester snapped out of his existential crisis yet?"

Slow footsteps stopped beside him. "Yes, yesterday, I belie-"

One hand, the hand that wasn't holding a cane, came out to stroke the top of Glynda's head. Down below them, the coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) wheeled back the way it had come, its job done for the moment. "There, see? It'll be fiiiine."

The coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) came flying out of the shadows once more, latching on to an unfortunate students backside. From where they were standing, a ways up and behind bulletproof glass, Ozpin and Glynda could hear it snarling.

Glynda turned her head slowly to stare up at Ozpin. She didn't need to say anything, her eyes were doing that for her.

Ozpin ruffled her hair slightly, which had the added benefit of pushing her fringe down over her glasses. " _Fiiiiiiiiiiiiine_."

 **XxX**

"Now, it is important to remember that General Legume sucked shit at his job. Rumours of Faunus operatives bending him over his desk and forcing him to anally indulge a fifteen inch metal pole unfortunately were mere rumours, but if we are to take into consideration the General's infamous homophobia, that paints quite the picture for effective, metaphorical, _and_ ironic propaganda for those on the Faunus' side during the revolution. I find myself enamoured with irony extremely easily. Haven't a clue why."

Oobleck idly twirled a pencil between his fingers, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration from where he was lying on his back in front of his desk. The room at large, writing apparatuses already in hand, began jotting down notes, the sound of paper being scratched eventually dying down as Oobleck dropped the pencil and sighed to himself.

"It turned out that attempting to subjugate and enslave a race naturally blessed with superhuman strength, reflexes and senses was a bad idea. Menagerie was at the time considered a perfectly peaceful land, and perhaps if your great grandfather payed attention in class, Mr. Winchester, he wouldn't be looked back upon as such a homicidal clown."

Cardin raised his head off his desk, unclasping one hand from around his aching balls long enough to flip the good doctor off. The pencil Oobleck had been twirling embedded itself up to the eraser in the wood beside his head, and in the same moment Cardin's books were out, his posture impeccable and a pen in his hands.

"Yes, Duke Winchester's adulterous son dragged his knuckles down to the recruitment office and joined the rest of his thick-browed brethren. Climbed the ranks like his daddy's love and acceptance was hiding at the top. Ah, love, such a fickle emotion." Oobleck's expression hadn't shifted at all, the ceiling still subject to his bland stare. His form flickered for a moment, before it settled back into perfect visibility, the pencil once again dancing between his fingers. "Now, I realise that first year is entirely about combat and anyone who shows even the slightest amount of interest in garnering knowledge will be punched in the stomach if they're not the ones punching people in the stomach, but can anybody tell me what is generally considered the turning point in the 'Great Faunus'- yes, Ms Schnee?"

Weiss lowered her hand, not bothering to question how Oobleck was able to see her raise it when he was effectively looking in the opposite direction. "The battle that took place at Fort Castle."

"Excellent, Ms Schnee. Next class I shall bring in a cookie. Now, I would ask for a volunteer for this next question, but I already have somebody perfect in mind." Jaune almost swallowed his tongue when Oobleck materialised in front of him, the man leaning against the desk with both hands propped up underneath his chin to support himself. "Mr. Arc, your school records so far have indicated that you are inept and likely didn't receive the oxygen you required during birth. You have been getting better, however, which is why I'll ask you what many theorise to be the General's biggest mistake during the battle of Fort Castle?"

Jaune's eyes flicked from left to right, his mind going over all the notes he could remember taking at a furious pace. So focused was he, he didn't notice Blake suspending a silver orb over Pyrrha's head while his partner curled her hands over her eyes and rotated them from side to side.

"Uh…um… oh, terrain!" Jaune clicked his fingers, nodding resolutely to himself as all his friends glanced at one another. That… was entirely wrong - historically the Faunus had only arrived three hours before their opposition - but it wasn't that bad a guess. "They knew the layout better, so they could plan out ambushes and traps and stuff!"

Everyone in the room blinked, and in that moment Oobleck's glasses were back on his face. Tilting them down, he looked Jaune dead in the eye, his hair falling forward to cover his forehead. "You're a natural blonde, aren't you?"

"…Yes, sir. Why do you ask?"

"No reason whatsoever, Mr. Arc. Don't worry your pretty little poorly phrased head over it." Oobleck pushed himself up, glancing out over the class. His gaze passed over many of the students, before landing on Cardin's once again slumped form. With a sigh, he pulled his glasses from his face, rubbing at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. "I know I'm going to regret this, but Mr. Winchester, would you perchance have the answer?"

Cardin opened his mouth. Nobody proceeded to expect much, not even his own team. "General Legume had the disadvantage of having to train soldiers instead of animals? …Sir."

Oobleck twitched. His fingers moved from his eyes to his forehead. "Breath, Bart. Think of the lawsuits." His eyes snapped open a moment later, and everyone was surprised to see that they were brown, as opposed to their regular blue. "Screw it. Ozpin likes me, he'll pay them."

Jaune yelped as his belongings were blown throughout the room when Oobleck once again disappeared. The gust of wind that followed him up the stairs ruined the hair of everyone in the room, aside from Yang, whom had more than likely purposefully been averted. Cardin actually shrieked when Oobleck reappeared on his desk, the teacher leaning forward with his legs crossed, his elbows resting against his knees.

"My apologies for scaring you, Cardin, but I feel like it is time for a talk that you really should have been given before this point." Generally, someone sitting cross-legged on a table in front of you wasn't all that scary. Generally, that person wasn't a fully qualified Hunter; a fully qualified Hunter considered good enough to educate at Beacon Academy; a fully qualified Hunter considered good enough to educate at Beacon Academy and whom you had just _pissed off royally_. "I had hoped that you were considering changing your attitude after our first encounter, but I see now that I was mistaken to leave you to your own devices."

Oobleck slouched down further, somehow making the defeated gesture seem threatening. "Beacon Academy is an equal opportunity facility, for humans and Faunus alike. This is the last home any of you will have before we I as a teacher barter your lives away and sell your souls into a war that has no end within view. You will fight Grimm, you will fight Faunus, and you will fight humans. Unless you happen to be a portion of the top ten percentile, you will die in the line of duty. By walking these halls, by eating our food, by sleeping in your beds, you have accepted these conditions."

Cardin leaned back in an attempt to maintain distance as Oobleck closed some of it. The doctor's eyes were narrowed into little more than slits, the only indication that he was anything more than mildly bored.

"I had my fair share of interactions with people much like you in my youth. I am still here. I am alive, pushing the next generation of warriors forward in an attempt to protect this world. _I had to help bury them_. If you believe for even a second that I will allow this behaviour to continue within these walls, then as a teacher and a student, we have reached an impasse." With a flash of light and waver in the air above Cardin's desk, Oobleck was back in front of the class, his glasses over his eyes and reflecting enough glare to hide them away completely. "That goes for everyone in this school, not just in my presence. Attitudes like this are what cut lives short, what impacts teamwork in the field. Having someone watch your back is imperative in combat, there will be situations where having someone you can rely on will be the sole difference between a victory and a collection of corpses."

The chime of the bell going off cut right through the sombre mood that had fallen on the room, the only movements being Cardin shoving his belongings into an easy to carry pile and Jaune ducking under his desk to pick everything that had dropped, though he was still keeping an ear out.

"If worst comes to worst, the lesson will be beaten into your heads. Whatever happens at Beacon, it can't possibly be worse than what a Grimm will do once it has you." Cardin scoffed, his progress down the stairs impaired as the pencil was once again imbedded in a surface within breathing distance of his body. "Remember, _you_ signed up for this. Now, dismissed."

The final word was what finally broke down the floodgates. People gathered their belongings and made their way towards the door, silence as deafening as a Dust explosion filling what was usually jovial conversation. Jaune shuffled around under his desk, gathering together all his errant pencils as the last of the footsteps died down.

He had been just about to stand up when a familiar voice rang through the classroom, quiet and unmistakable.

"Uh, Doctor Oobleck?" Jaune had never heard Blake sound so hesitant before. Granted, he'd barely heard her at all, considering she barely talked during group meetings and he only really knew her name by proxy of other people saying it around him. "Can I discuss something with you? It's… it's important."

 **XxX**

So, am I doing alright? I mean, I never planned on turning this into a full blown story, and I don't have much of a plot in mind besides increasingly ridiculous attempts to sabotage coffee intake and shadowing the canon storyline, but this is a borderline crackfic focusing on one Doctor Snarktholomew Mmbleck, so, I guess I just really don't know.

Here's a question for you so I don't have to end this note on an awkward note; who is your favourite RWBY character and why? I think I would have to go with Roman, because he's hilarious, but that might change. I'm only up to the end of Volume 1 atm, so I can't wait until shit gets dark and depressing.

Till next chapter!

 _ **X**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Eew, plot.

* * *

The concept of certainty wasn't one that generally found itself a home in Blake's psyche.

Of course, that hadn't always been the case. The certainty that the world would be a made a better place had followed her throughout her childhood, immersing itself in her passion with every picket sign she created and chant she rallied. It had been false, martyred and bloodied by her attempts to merely stay alive, to keep her head above the waves as black as night that had rushed outwards to claim her once precious, peaceful organisation.

Adam had been another certainty, another reassurance to slowly lose itself to the darkening tides of their society. Leaving the White Fang behind in search of a better way had found itself her newest certainty, one accompanied by the drive to focus, to not waste her time on others and to be the best she could possibly be. That resolve too, had begun to crumble away, leaving in its place a dilemma that spanned her past and what could very well be the entirety of her future.

Perhaps a school wasn't the best place for her, considering her seeming inability to learn.

Doctor Oobleck's lecture, once holding every ounce of attention and intrigue, had long since faded to a piece of uninteresting background music. If the teacher had noticed her lack of attention, he hadn't commented on it, leaving Blake with nothing to do but attempt to re-rail her attention and, when that inevitably failed, ponder silently to herself whether she had been a stupid child or was a cowardly teenager.

She didn't question why her mind was then suddenly telling her to cut a circle out of a spare piece of paper, colour it silver, and hang it over Pyrrha's head in under five seconds, but she did anyway. Maybe it was just another Faunus thing, like the uprising of an insatiable urge to kill every time she saw a bird. _That_ had ruined more than its fair share of pet stores.

In the end, it was the pages of her notebook fluttering up against the tip of her nose that startled her back to reality. It was the melancholic tone that spoke of wisdom and power that Doctor Oobleck had taken that she listened to, and it was the realisation that she would never get anywhere while thinking this over on her own that spurred her into action. Luckily enough for her, the ringing of a bell sounded in that moment, and Blake made her way down the stairs with every other student, waving her team onwards as she stopped in front of the only single desk in the room.

"Uh, Doctor Oobleck?" Blake would have winced if she weren't staring right into the face of the green haired Huntsman. Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears, pathetically coherent with that of a child desperately seeking guidance. All too fitting, had she not given up her childhood when she decided to take part in her first peaceful protest. "Can I discuss something with you? It's… it's important."

 _She could change the White Fang for the better. She could steer her beloved mentor back towards the light. She would attend Beacon and become a bridge between Faunus and human. She wouldn't grow close to anyone; she couldn't. She would remain a secret until she was ready._

Somewhere along the line, she really should have learned to stop making promises to herself. Granted, there had been a chance of her keeping that last one, until she was chucked onto a team with two of the most lovable sisters in the entire school… and Weiss, but even then that chance would never have been a good one.

She had seen good humans and bad humans. Just as she had seen good Faunus and bad Faunus. She had lived up and down that spectrum, laid witness to acts of hatred and kindness alike; it would be years until she would think to admit it to even herself, but she would never be ready.

And the rest of Team RWBY deserved more than that. In only a few short weeks, they were some of the best friends she could have ever asked for… and Weiss. A secret as big as her past would eat her alive, would tear apart the bonds they all shared like wet tissue paper. Maybe it was selfish of her to want after the atrocities she had once committed; living seventeen years embroiled in a war that nobody around her seemed to give a damn about stopped her from caring too much about that little aspect.

Repentance could be worked towards in her own time, but that wasn't fair to them. They needed to _know_ , but as good as she was at reading them, Blake just didn't have any practice with using words. She _needed_ help.

And who better than the only human she'd come across in her time at Beacon that actively protected the Faunus from discrimination? Who better than someone else who knew what it felt like to fight a war that had no end in feasible sight beyond extinction?

Oobleck took a sip from his mug (that had a pretty blue flower on the front), glancing at her over the rim; more specifically, at her bow. The last of her classmates had trickled out of the room, all with various lacking degrees of enthusiasm, a mug (that had a pretty blue flower on the front), causing one student who'd been attempting to re-enter the room to give a loud shriek or pure terror and immediately flee in the opposite direction. With a slight incline of his head, Oobleck leant against his desk, gesturing for Blake to continue with a vague wave of his hand.

Blake took a breath, letting it out slowly as she contemplated just what she would say. Ousting herself as a former terrorist would see her into a prison cell faster than even Oobleck could move, which she really didn't want, regardless of the fact that behind bars was probably where she should have been. But that was the entire point of the conversation, so what did that honestly leave her? Running for the door with her proverbial tail between her legs?

No, not this time. Beacon was her one and only chance; if and when everything about her came to light, there was no chance that it wasn't at least going to be on her own terms.

It was in that moment that Blake could truly appreciate a favourite adage from an old White Fang colleague of hers', the exact same moment that she found the end of her ribbon and pulled it free.

' _Fuck everything_ '.

 **XxX**

Jaune wasn't entirely sure how to proceed in the situation he'd found himself in.

In his experience, when somebody asked another person if they could talk about something important, that topic was generally one which should be kept as far out of the public spotlight as possible. So when Blake's voice echoed through the now mostly empty room and reached his ears, he found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Figuratively speaking, of course. He was still underneath his desk so he could gather the last of his supplies, so really, he was more stuck between a desk and another desk that were probably about the same molecular density. But that wasn't the point.

He didn't want to be here right now. Most other people probably relished in the chance to discover another person's secrets; Jaune could think of two off the top of his head. He didn't include himself on that list for two very good reasons; he was very bad at keeping said secrets, and after sharing a house with seven siblings of the opposite gender, he was all too well versed in the types of volatile emotions that would accompany a secret when it inevitably came out. Only a natural born sucker wouldn't bet that those volatile emotions would follow closely him accidentally divulging said secret for all to hear.

So what could he do? He still had another class to get to; as much as he wished History had been the last so the day could finish on a high note, Dust Theory was fairly important too. Even if he didn't actually use the stuff, there was always the possibility that Jaune would cave and draw up some schematics that would allow Crocea Mors to some cartridges of ammo. As much as he appreciated the antiquity, range would be far more important in his line of work than tradition. And it wasn't as if he would install any modifications without Ruby's supervision, that was more than liable to end up as suicide.

So he didn't want to be here, he had somewhere else to be, and he had no reason to stay…

If there had been a camera hidden within his field of vision, Jaune would have turned to it with a blank expression. Making his way out from underneath the desk wasn't too hard, even though he would end up having to say goodbye to that pencil that he just couldn't seem to find. Oh well, it wasn't like they didn't sell for a couple of lien a pack at basically every single business that sold stuff.

Pushing himself to his feet, happened to glance out over the room, catching Doctor Oobleck's eye as he went. The Huntsman gave him no visual cues as to what he may have been thinking, and Jaune took a single step towards the stairs- only for his eyes to land on Blake a second before he hit the ground with what he hoped was not too conspicuous a thud.

"I don't really know where to start with what I need to say, but I guess I need advice?"

Crumbs, shivers, frick, and all other manner of words he had taken to using as substitutes while around Ruby. Never had Jaune really wondered what Blake would look like without her bow, never now would he have to. He had a front row seat, to the least coveted event in all four of the Kingdoms, at least in his eyes.

This… was a big secret. A very big secret, one which he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep.

"You wish to know how you may break the news to your team that you used to be a member of the White Fang."

Aaaaand it just got a whole lot bigger. If it wouldn't have resulted in a sound that would be impossible to hide, Jaune would have slammed his head into the desk in front of his face. Why wasn't Oobleck calling him out? Why hadn't he just left the classroom with everyone else? Why did this sort of thing always happen to him?

'Your belongings are now all over the room, have fun with that. Oh, yeah, Blake used to be a terrorist operative; those must have been some crazy times. Mum's the word.' Thanks, universe, you dingus.

"Wha- how did you…?"

Jaune would have rolled his eyes, but given how dry they felt, he was too worried that they would crackle and give away his position. Had Oobleck been hiding under a desk the last time Blake had taken off her bow? Did everyone know the secret and he was just worrying about nothing?

And where on Dust's tortured Remnant was his freaking pencil?

"There is very little Beacon does not know about its students, Miss Belladonna. We are a school for the best of the best, there are more groups targeting this establishment than you may think. Nothing has managed to get past those defenses yet, your past included."

Jaune's spine straightened out in alarm, which had the unfortunate side effect of sending the top of his skull directly into the bottom of the desk that he was sitting under. The only silver lining in this situation was the fact that his Aura had activated on instinct upon the shock entering his system, so he could at least escape without bruises or a concussion.

Still, did that mean Beacon knew? Surely they did, there was no way he could put more effort into hiding the origin of his transcripts than Blake would put into hiding her affiliations. They had to know… so why was he even still here?

"So… so the teachers know? That I'm a criminal, that I used to be a terrorist? They know, and yet they still let me in?"

It had to be because of his teammates. He had really lucked out in that regard, despite almost certainly having burned down a field of four-leaf clovers in a past life. Three prodigies all managing to get onto the same team, with the kid that was kept around to pad out numbers. But that would imply his transcripts had even worked in the first place, and he was under no illusions that his performance during initiation managed to convince anyone to his legitimacy.

But… why would Ozpin even send him into initiation in the first place? His forgeries must have been discovered early; the amount of negative karma he had somehow managed to garner together held approximately enough mass to develop into a black hole… great, now he was even more confused.

"I won't pretend that I entirely understand Headmaster Ozpin's decision making process, but I do have complete faith in it. He has placed his trust in you by allowing you entry, and from what I have seen so far, there is no reason for me to do otherwise."

Hmm, seems his small blunt force trauma had managed to fly under the radar. Joy of joys, now this horrendously bad situation could spiral even further out of control.

What would he even do after this, he was forced to wonder. Sure, he could pretend that he hadn't heard anything, he could take this secret to what was very likely to be an early grave, he could wait for the explosion to engulf him and the rest of his friend group while straining to hold up the weight of the web of lies he himself had spun around him and his perceived abilities. Yes, his body could have been made of steel and his innate negativity still would have repulsed any magnet in the Kingdom of Vale, why do you ask?

"I… I don't know what to do. I want to tell my team. Maybe Team JNPR too, we've been getting closer to them recently, but I just don't know what I'm supposed to say. How would I even bring something like this up? 'Hey guys, just thought I'd let you know that I used to be a terrorist operative, those were some seriously crazy times. Mum's the word!'"

Jaune tilted his head to the side. Hmm, why did that sentence sound so familiar?

"There has never been a time in my life when I have found myself in a situation similar to yours, Miss Belladonna. Perhaps you should start at the beginning? Tell me how you became affiliated and why you decided to leave."

"…Alright. I guess I'll start by saying I was a member of the White Fang since as long as I can remember."

Since as long as she could remember? Jaune furrowed his eyebrows, still images flooding his mind as he attempted to call forth the earliest memory he was still in possession of. Nothing rushed to the forefront to claim the position, too bogged down by the recollection of all the times he had sat in heard news of a White Fang protest turning sour, the body count slowly rising as the years began to pass. It had never seemed like that big a deal when he was still too young to really think for himself; he couldn't actually recall ever giving a second though to that single rally he had once watched from the safety of his mother's arms, to the words that were thrown and the dishevelled state of those who had been marching.

"That was back when they were still peaceful, still trying to project a message that wasn't violence. I was always there, holding a sign and crying out for the rights of my people. But as I grew older, things started to change."

The biggest misgivings he had ever had about his own life was the mild frustrations of his parents refusing to train him, or the constant struggle of having to share two bathrooms with seven sisters. Compared to some of the things he'd come across since arriving at Beacon, his life before now had been remarkably… cushy. The school was of course a place of comfort, it had the budget to cater to every student's whim and desire, none of which changed the fact that it was an institute geared towards teaching teenagers how to kill things. His formative years had been spent stumbling about and trying to figure out how to use a sword without accidentally chopping his own leg off; he couldn't even begin to imagine a life of protest and consequence.

"The leaders stepped down, and when new Faunus took the position everything started to change. Things… got worse. I was recruited for some of the more… covert missions when I discovered my Semblance."

Covert missions. There was no need to read between the lines, and even less of a desire to do so. It wasn't Jaune's place to do so, his own situation left him without a leg to stand on the moment morality became a topic of discussion. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his own family; he didn't need the added pressure of a civil war to make that decision.

"There… there was just too much blood. There wasn't ever supposed to be any, I told myself there wouldn't be any when I was a little girl, every time I picked up a sign. It got to be too much, more than I could delude myself into dealing with. So… I left. Cut all ties and applied for Beacon. Now here I am, running and hiding from the cause I had been prepared to die for less than a year ago."

Now, it could never be said that Jaune Arc could be held up as a paragon of horseshoes and the number seven. With that in mind, which was usually the case for young Mr. Arc for sixteen hours out of the regular twenty-four, even he was not aware that the sliding scale could find a setting that went beyond that week following the time he tripped over a black cat, rolled under a ladder, and ended up breaking thirteen mirrors with the umbrella he had just opened indoors.

He wasn't sure what he should have been feeling as he sighed and set his head back against wall that effectively made up the bottom structure of every desk in the row. Pity would be an insult, sadness even more so when he lacked the understanding. Truly, even with a family as vast as his, emotions would likely never be his strong suit.

When the wall inevitably gave way and sent him tumbling down onto the floor before Blake and Oobleck, however, he knew exactly how he was feeling. A form of annoyance, so tempered by experience and years upon years of building exasperation that it smashed through all barriers in its path until it was set to the simmering, boiling heat of unadulterated and pure rage against the universe and all that resided in it.

His youngest sister has once coined the term as being Arcgry, usually seen in brief flashes whenever a bird decided his head would be a good place to empty its bowels. Somehow busting through a solid wood surface at literally the worst time with nothing but the lightest brush of his hair against it also seemed able to trigger it, amazingly enough.

Jaune really wanted to scream. At the desk, at the universe, at his pencil (wherever that little fuck had managed to get to). His lungs were already inflated to start, all that hot air leaving him in a very unattractive snort upon glancing up and catching sight of Blake's upside down expression of pure terror. That, and her feline ears, which looked so soft from this angle that he could say with complete certainty he'd never wanted to feel a girl's body part in his hands more than those ears in that very second.

…Wait.

When it became obvious that nobody else was going to try to continue the conversation, Jaune opened his mouth, intent of letting loose a sentence that in all honesty probably would have made things worse for him, considering he hadn't bothered trying to think it through. It would all be for naught, however, as Blake broke her stare and disappeared in a blur of black and white, the screeching of her shoes against the floor telling him all he needed to know.

"Forgive the inelegance of this solution, Miss Belladonna, but in my expert opinion I believe that any confidence borne for this admission would be an illusory practice." With speed that trumped even the young kunoichi's, Doctor Oobleck had beaten her to the door, leaning against its frame with his arms crossed. His stance probably would have been one that screamed how entirely cool his life in general was, had he not had one long leg spanning the doorway to effectively bar entry and exit, the tip of his shoe resting at about the same height as his waist. "Take this as my advice as I throw you to the metaphorical sharks; occasionally there will come a time in life where you are left with no other choice than to proceed, because forward is the only direction with land beneath your feet. That being said, please don't try to run away, I fear that may just exacerbate the situation."

The door swung open seemingly on its own volition to allow the good Doctor through, a coffee mug (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) coming to rest in his hands as he kicked the door shut behind him.

"Ain't my problem anymore," Jaune heard him mutter from the other side of the door. Huh, seems he had decided to take that post so Blake couldn't get away. Smart man, and for that Jaune immediately hated him.

With slow, deliberate movement, Blake's body rotated until she was once again facing Jaune, her expression a strange mix of that which was worn by a person about to be dragged to the gallows, and that which was worn by a person who was about to drag another person to the gallows.

Jaune stared back from the floor, having neglected to climb back to his feet. Semblances' were a reflection of one's soul, right? Maybe if he lay really still and wanted it a whole lot, the ground would open up beneath him and swallow him up. From there it could just spit him out somewhere else or maybe just keep him, either would have been good.

How long had they been staring at each other now? A few seconds? The rest of perceived time? Why hadn't the floor opened up yet; did he just not want it hard enough? Why did Doctor Oobleck choose to leave him here?

Damn it, he was not prepared for this situation. He had no idea what to do; what would his father tell him to do in this situation?

* * *

 _Little Jaune glanced up from the cup he was busy filling with tea, setting the teapot down next to his little sister's prized rabbit plush doll and undoing the knot of his apron. Four of his siblings sat around the small table amidst their toys, each enjoying one of the cupcakes he had just pulled out from his Funbake Furnace. His father, having beckoned him over, smiled down at his only son as Little Jaune climbed onto his lap, his blue eyes large and inquisitive._

" _Son, you're six years old now." The man, who was so similar to Jaune in every conceivable was that the only possible explanations were divine laziness or asexual reproduction by fragmentation, pulled the pipe out from between his lips, setting his newspaper to the side and running a hand through his moustache. With the cup of coffee he was currently nursing in his free hand, he fit the appearance of someone who'd had a hand in spawning eight children all too well. "That, of course, means you're finally ready to begin your training."_

" _You mean you'll teach me how to use a sword?" Little Jaune's face lit up, his body almost vibrating with excitement. "You'll teach me how to stab those mean Grimm thingies and keep everyone safe like a hero should so I don't have to do something like fake transcripts to get into a school later in life because the world is infested and if I do that without the proper training I might die or end up getting my partner killed because I didn't have what it took to keep them sa-"_

" _Whoa there, Jaune! Not so fast!" Father Arc pushed a finger against Little Jaune's lips, the smile widening to include a few teeth. "That'll come later. Or never, preferably never. No, what you'll be learning is an ancient art that has been passed down from Arc father to Arc son for generations!"_

 _Little Jaune leaned forward, small stars in his eyes. Generations? He didn't exactly know what that word meant, but it sure sounded cool!_

" _You will begin training…" Father Arc paused, tapping out his own drumroll on the table beside him. "…In the sacred art of Sed'Arction!"_

"… _Was that a dad joke?"_

" _Confidence, my son. All woman look for confidence in a man." Father Arc clapped a hand down on his confused son's shoulders. "And with this final lesson, you have completed your training. I'm so proud of you!"_

 _Little Jaune tilted his head to the side, not grateful for receiving this sacred training because he was a child and children are entitled little bastards who didn't know how the world worked. "What about good looks?"_

"… _Huh?"_

" _Wouldn't woman also want good looks? And a guy who'll listen to them? And someone smart enough to talk to them properly?" Little Jaune began ticking off fingers. "And manners? And money? And a big-"_

" _All an Arc should have to have is confidence!" Father Arc waved a fist emphatically through the air. Not Father Arc probably would have ended up face first on the ground when Father Arc jumped to his feet, had he not had the foresight to vacate his seat a few seconds beforehand. "That is how it has been for generations upon generations, and if it ain't broke, you don't fix it!"_

"…' _Kay." Little Jaune began making his way to the exit of the room, never quite turning away from his father. "I'm gonna go now, I promised Emily I'd style her hair, and after that I'm going to be help Chloe fix her make-up for her date tonight, so…"_

" _CONFIDENCE!" Father Arc cried as his son finally turned the corner._

* * *

Jaune shook his head as neurons that had long since considered themselves dead kicked into high gear. He knew how to style hair and do a girl's make-up? Wait, of course he did, he'd been doing so on a regular basis since his fifth sister had been born! He was interested in cooking? Well, he had been until he had been informed that Arc men didn't belong in the kitchen.

Cooking wasn't manly, according to Father Arc. Tearing through flesh with a serrated chunk of metal, igniting blistering heat to gain nutrients from that which was bested for the express purpose of maintaining the strength of the human race, that wasn't manly. Blending together your surrounding environment, besting nature constantly for reasons that could stretch from survival to simple enjoyment, that wasn't something a man should hold any interest in doing.

Not for the first time, Jaune cursed the fact that his father had such a compelling voice. Of course the only information about the fairer sex, no matter how useless, that wouldn't end up repressed had to come from Father Arc. His grandparents literally giving his dad the name Father really should have been his first clue, come to think of it.

Great. Now his back was sore from lying on the hard ground for so long, the silence was reaching for the ten minute mark, and he all of a sudden really wanted to try his hand at making a soufflé.

Today _sucked_.

 **XxX**

I _do_ ship KnightShade (Jaune x Blake), but beyond the platonic interactions, this story will _not_ be a KnightShade fic. There probably won't be any ship sailing for the foreseeable future, this is primarily a comedy. Even though this chapter probably wasn't as funny, but sometimes you need plot related chapters too. Next chapter should finish off the Jaundice storyline, and then it's on to Forever Fall and beyond.

Am I doing these characters right? I still don't know.

I was honestly expecting two more scenes for this chapter, and for all four to add up to maybe ~3k words. Shows how much I know.

It's a personal headcanon of mine that Jaune definitely knows how to fix make-up and hair. I'm going off personal experience, having two sisters myself, so I can only imagine what three and a half times that number would entail.

Little Jaune was going to say house. I promise. For a six year old, it's not a bad guess. Certainly better than 'nothing but confidence'.

Somehow, this story got recommended on TV Tropes. Hello, fellow Tropers (yeah that's right) who have found this story through there! I guess now I should start towards earning myself an actual page. Should be fun.

'Till next chapter!

 _ **X**_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This chapter seriously didn't want to be written. Must be the homework that I've started getting. Yeah, I'm a uni student now. Dunno how that'll effect my upload schedule, considering it's a writing course. You'd think I'd have _more_ motivation, but you would be mistaken.

* * *

He was woefully unprepared to be dealing with something like this only a few weeks into the school term.

No words had been exchanged the two of them for what must have been over a minute. Blake had broken eye contact ten seconds in, scanning the room up and down for what Jaune could only presume were alternate exits. The defeated slump of her shoulder a handful of breaths ago told him all he needed to know; there was no escaping a situation like this.

There was nothing he could see that was inherently wrong with the Faunus. Cynical as he could be, his eldest sister had really summed it up for him the best less than a year prior, after a spectacular failure at trying to make him feel better about the glacial pace of his training.

 _"The only person you hate is yourself. You'll get there, don't worry about it."_

Of course, it had been somewhat paraphrased and in an entirely different context, but the message was the same. Unlike many people he had come across, Jaune could say with certainty that he did not hate, nor did he hold any ill will towards Faunus. The White Fang? Yes, they were terrorists, but humanity itself wasn't judged by examples that could be fished from the bottom of the barrel.

He couldn't judge every parent against Father Arc. Whatever spite was within him was wishing that he could, but that discussion was deep and dark and went places he didn't want to think about.

Even so, that hadn't helped him towards making any progress, considering the person he'd found himself in this situation with was Blake. Her inarguably being one of the most beautiful girls currently attending their first year at Beacon (not that the silhouettes were putting up much of a fight in that regard, but he digressed) did very little to ease the painful awkwardness that had plagued him his entire life, nor did the look on her face that conveyed the message of her serious consideration towards either committing a murder or breaking down a wall.

He could think of nothing to make all this go away. A promise to never speak of it was just asking for trouble. Ignoring it entirely and pretending it had never happened was possibly viable, but was that even fair to the goals Blake herself had admitted wanting to move towards? She wanted acceptance for what she was, so perhaps his best option was to offer it.

"I cheated my way into Beacon."

Or he could go ahead and say that. It was basically the sentiment he wanted to convey in the first place, except it was nothing like what he had been going for. Story of his life.

At least if he was reading between the right lines, this wasn't about to get him kicked out.

Joy.

 **XxX**

Cardin could feel the grip he had on his sanity slowly loosening.

This had never been a problem for him before he'd decided he wanted to attend combat school. Sure, he loved fighting, and maybe occasionally he took things a little too far, but that was just because he was a complete asshole. Before Beacon, he never would have brought his own mental health into question.

But everything changed when the coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) attacked.

No matter how far he went, it would always be there, remaining in the corner of his vision regardless of what he did. Whenever he closed his eyes it would haunt his dreams. Every time he looked in a mirror, there it would be, mocking him over his shoulder and disappearing as soon as he had turned around.

It would always be there, lurking just out of his reach whenever he was within a stone's throw distance of a Faunus. If the rest of his team ever wondered why he would flinch and walk past that rabbit freak with his head down, they didn't question it.

His temper, already shorter than that annoyingly happy farmer child, seemed to reach its peak faster and faster as the days passed. His leg muscles had grown far stronger with all the running away he'd done whenever the coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) would disappear from his vision, only to fly around the corner and barrel towards him. He'd escaped unscathed so far, the cup always veering off course to strike a student who was in some way being an asshole to another student (either human or Faunus, the ceramic mug didn't seem to capable of differentiating between the two, despite the marked differences), but he knew better than to grow complacent.

His balls had only just stopped hurting. That trip to the nurses' office on Russel's insistence had been down and out the most awkward thing that he'd ever been forced to endure. Only now could he walk without a limp; to let his guard down for even a second could be to lay down his life as forfeit.

It was only in Oobleck's class where the coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) would vanish from his sight, would leave him free to his own devices. All he would get was a single History lesson before he was forced to worry once more, a couple of hours freedom at most.

He wasn't proud to admit that he'd let his guard down. When he had tried to re-enter the room and retrieve the pencil he'd accidentally left behind, the coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) had completely blindsided him. He hadn't been aware that his voice could reach that level of pitch or volume, but it had, and he had almost been entering the Emerald Forest before realising the coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) had no longer been on his tail.

The climb back up the cliff left him wondering how he'd descended it without noticing in the first place. The temptation to just skip Dust Theory altogether and just go to bed ridiculously early was thrown away upon realisation that he couldn't possibly afford tardiness in that class if he didn't feel like being kicked out of the school for poor attendance, and thus, here he now was, walking down Beacon's corridors with his entire body twitching like a junky desperate for their next hit.

At least the coffee cup (front the on flower blue pretty a had that) was behaving itself in the corner of his vision, leaving him be as he traversed the school. A small mercy considering he'd missed a good half the class in session and didn't currently have the mental acuity to come up with a plausible excuse. "I was being chased by an arguable sentient wannabe tea cup" didn't seem too likely to work.

But even so-

"Ah, Mister Winchester. Fancy running into you here."

Cardin almost ignored Oobleck's voice entirely. Sure, now that the man hadn't been hopped up on whatever he claimed was coffee for the last two weeks, he was a decent educator that may have actually been worthy of a smidgen of respect, but he just didn't have it in him to care. He could have laid claim to his indifference being due to the man's unfortunate Faunus sympathising behaviours; he would just need to get past the mental exhaustion first.

Too bad for him, then, that Oobleck was currently in possession of a coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) that suspiciously resembled his stalker.

A lump of ice that was approximately the same size as the bruises that had been decorating his groin for the last little while slid into his stomach, landing with an audible thud against his intestines. Oobleck glanced around in confusion for a moment, before shrugging and leaning against the door he'd been standing in front of, the coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) bouncing up and down as he fiddled with it.

"How fortunate that we have come across one another." The words may as well have been swimming through concrete in an attempt to enter his ears; all Cardin could hear was the cries of the thousands upon thousands of children that would always seem to start up whenever he came across solid evidence that he was sharing space with that damn coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front). "I've already sent word to the teachers for the classes you have today, perhaps you should return to your dorm and rest for now. The stress of a new school years gets to everyone eventually."

Cardin nodded along to the dismissal. In reality, he was actually doing absolutely everything in his power to both remain completely still and keep the coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) in his sights at all times. Regardless, he'd heard what had been said, and so began to back away slowly, his steps slow and measured enough to be found on a professional Huntsman in the process of retreating from a horde of sensitive Grimm.

The coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) climbed higher, Cardin's head following it like a puppy entranced by a toy, except the puppy was vastly more horrified and the toy was a needle filled with anaesthetic at the vets'. The coffee cup (that had a pretty running gag on the front) drifted past Oobleck's face, Cardin's eyes remaining on it until it was suddenly gone. Conditioned by fear and experience, he almost managed to turn around, catching sight of Oobleck's eyes a fraction of a second before he had managed the first step towards a full retreat.

"Ozpin sees something great in you, Mister Winchester. You would not have been allowed into Beacon otherwise." Cardin stood transfixed, his waist twisted at a painful angle as the coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) began to orbit Oobleck's head. The good doctor's eyes were back to that shade of brown, their intensity uncomfortably familiar. "Your family name has bathed in blood not belonging to Grimm for generations. Perhaps it is time to think about whether yours is a legacy worth upholding?"

Oobleck blinked, and the effect was lost. Blue eyes regarded Cardin with something akin to boredom, the coffee cup (that had a pretty flower blue on the front) nowhere to be seen. With nothing but a nod, he turned around, silently pushing the door he'd been leaning against open and disappearing into the classroom beyond it, the door shutting with nary a sound behind him.

It took precisely four and a half seconds to realise something important, and a further six to finally do as he had initially been told.

The coffee cup (that had pretty much tortured him up to this point if you really think about it) was nowhere to be seen.

The smile didn't even leave his face when he passed a couple of Faunus holding hands.

The boy who pointed and laughed at his dopey expression received a coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) to the back of the head.

 **XxX**

Yang Xiao Long was currently a woman on a mission.

It wasn't a sanctioned mission; she hadn't even left the grounds of Beacon Academy in order to undertake it. It had also not been the result of an order, perhaps it could even be considered as the complete opposite.

Ren and Nora had left her to her own devices long ago, after Nora had seen something shiny down an adjacent corridor and chased after it. The grip she's had on Ren's arm meant he was coming along for the ride unless he found a way to detach it, and green mixing with red was just too suggestive for this time of year to bother whipping StormFlower out.

Maybe she had lost some time. That worked out perfectly. Given the circumstances, any time she could add to this specific endeavour could only ever be a good thing…

* * *

 _~2 minutes earlier~_

"I'm sorry, you're just not my type."

The silhouette did nothing but stare. The silhouette couldn't ever do anything other than stare. The silhouette led a tortured existence. The silhouette had no mouth to scream, no hands to grasp the future, no eyes to see and no emotions to feel. The silhouette was a hollow husk shaped vaguely like a human, nothing to separate it from the Grimm that it had attended this academy to learn to kill.

Yang smiled, the expression making her look vaguely queasy. "It's just that I like my men with more…"

Muscles.

"Character."

She meant muscles.

The silhouette stared at her. The silhouette could do nothing but stare. Cardin chose that moment to run past, screaming his head off. A familiar coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) tore after him, bouncing at impossible angles in its pursuit.

The silhouette began to move away. The silhouette didn't use its feet. The silhouette didn't have any feet. Only outlines and arguable sentience.

Yang watched as the silhouette melted into the background. That was the one advantage the silhouette had in life, being able to show up at any point of time with little to no explanation. Never was the silhouette late to class. Never did the silhouette leave a high-five hanging. The silhouette was literally the greatest thing to ever walk Remnant. Grimm would line up and bow down to the overwhelming might that was the silhouette's sheer allure, should their soulless shells even hope to survive exposure to the sheer divinity of the silhouette's empty countenance.

"Sheesh, you didn't have to crush the guy that like, Yang."

By the sheer beatific grace of having been within the silhouette's presence for any amount of time, Yang didn't bat an eyelash as Nora dropped down from the ceiling, Ren under one arm and her face set in a disapproving frown.

"Gary was already two-dimensional, Nora. I doubt he can even feel pain." Through the use of ninja reflexes, a tap on the elbow, and world class level gymnastics did Ren free himself from his best friend's hold, shaking his head once to return the streak in his hair from a dust covered gray to its regular pink. "More on the point, I still doubt that Jaune has taken to hiding within the ventilation system."

"This isn't your scene…" part of the corridor's décor muttered under its breath. No, wait, my apologies, it was another silhouette. So hard to tell these days.

Everyone present ignored it. As they should.

Yang glanced between the two teammates, her neck almost creaking as she glanced through the door she had been holding open the entire time. Professor Port seemed unsurprisingly completely oblivious to the fact that she hadn't entered yet. Ruby waved at her, taking a moment out of her busy schedule of stacking books atop her head. Sitting right beside her sister, Weiss _very_ pointedly stared towards the front of the classroom, tilting her head towards Yang's direction a second later and cocking an eyebrow ever so slightly.

The door was lucky to remain on its hinges after transferring all that kinetic energy to the wall. The last thing Yang saw before the threshold was sealed away was Ruby's utterly betrayed look. It was almost enough for her to give up this one chance at freedom and actually enter the classroom.

Almost.

"You know what, Blake isn't around here either. I'll help you look; maybe they're somewhere together?"

The trio glanced at one another before launching into the laughter equivalent of a golf clap. Except Ren, but he was laughing on the inside. Maybe.

* * *

Yang blinked back to the present, glancing around suspiciously in order to make sure nobody had noticed the fact that she had been walking into a wall for however long she was out of it. The corridor she had found herself in, along with being abandoned, had the added accidental benefit of housing the History classroom, which was all well and good in her eyes.

Any moments spent around Oobleck were a potential goldmine of comedy. He almost managed to make learning anything other than how to crush a Grimm's skull with laser vision seem interesting. He was pretty close, though, only having to lose the shirt on a more regular basis until he reached that level.

"…No, no, this is fine-"

"…Well, maybe a cut below, but still-"

Yang paused her steps, her neck slowly twisting like an owl until she was facing the door to the History Classroom. The incriminating piece of wood said nothing as she crept up to it; a wise decision, seeing as the voices beyond the door were doubtlessly Blake and… Jaune?

They were holding a conversation? How… unlikely.

"…Gotta think for a second… nobody can know-"

"…Kicked out… family'll never let me live it down-"

Yang frowned minutely. She'd heard the stories Jaune had told Ruby about his family from Ruby herself, a holdover from his status of being the first friend her little sister had made at Beacon. From what she could tell, they were all basically as close to one another as she was to Ruby, which was saying quite a lot. Though how many sisters had he said he was in possession of? Five, or something insane like that?

This all probably would have made a lot more sense if Yang could actually hear all that was being said.

"…Trust me… fine… deal?"

"…Doing… for you… Not too often, deal."

Yang's brain was an interesting place on the best of days. In keeping with typical human cognitive abilities, coming to conclusions was something desired, even if they happened to be wrong. It was easier for the mind to trick or lie to itself into thinking that it knew what was happening around it, even if it was so entirely off kilter that it couldn't possibly hope to be taken seriously.

Crouching in front of that door, a hand over her mouth to withhold the utter shock she was feeling as her brain leapt to a hilarious conclusion, Yang was being faced with a new scenario. The tones of voice being used beyond that door were recent, the words and secrecy speaking to those neurons that overheated whenever they thought back to that one time Yang had opened a Ninja's of Love novel.

"Oh my…" Stumbling away from the door like it was a guy who had just vomited over her shoes on the initial ride into Beacon, Yang removed her hand from her jaw, letting it hang for a scant moment as her thoughts made an attempt to organise themselves.

Never let it be said that Ms Xiao Long was a paragon of logical thinking. Considering she had made a job out of punching nursery rhyme villains to death with metal gloves, the entire opposite could have been argued.

Ren had just been turning the corner when Yang announced her findings.

He promptly turned on his heel so quickly that he drilled a small hole in the ground.

"Blake… is a pimp."

One of the birds flying past a nearby window actually stopped in order to give her a flat look.

"Or maybe a drug dealer." The silhouette beside Yang offered.

Nobody listened to it.

As they should.

 **XxX**

There are actually hints as to what I'm making Oobleck's Semblance in this chapter. It may be ridiculously overpowered, not that it'll really matter in this story. Also, enjoy the butterflies as they begin their journey overhead. It'll only get worse from here.

 _ **X**_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** How did this get over a hundred follows?

 _How?_

* * *

High above Beacon Academy, Ozpin brooded.

There were many words people could and would use in place of brooding. Pondering was one; Reflecting, ooh, that was a good one. High above Beacon Academy, Ozpin reflected on recent events. Yes, that could work.

Except he wasn't reflecting. Ozpin was brooding.

High above Beacon Academy.

Anyway.

In this long tenure as Headmaster, many a questionable choice had been made. Lives hung in the balance every time he sent his students off to fight in a war they shouldn't have been forced to experience in the first place. Thoughts on the past that had no impact on the future were meaningless, but sometimes in the dead of night, Ozpin would sit up with a steaming cup of coffee and wonder if some of the decisions he'd made had truly been for the good of humanity.

Hiring Bartholomew Oobleck was one such decision.

The man was a capable historian; perhaps even the most capable on Remnant. He had much to teach, more than most could learn in their entire lives. And should the need arise, he was just as capable a Huntsman, in the best possible position to defend the future of their world.

But that was only when he was amped up on so much caffeine that he couldn't stop vibrating. The man took addicted to a whole new level, and with it came ground-breaking symptoms of withdrawal.

The students would always rebel at first. Not to the initial lessons; any who didn't know what Bartholomew was like while hopped up were generally too wide-eyed and idealistic (or just new to Beacon) to bother questioning his quirks, that came later. A lethargic Barty was the stuff of legends, the stories that older generations of students would tell their underclassmen while huddled around a campfire on a joint mission.

That shit was like finding the six-headed King Taijitu in Digi-Grimm Go. It just didn't happen.

No, even the most hardened caffeine addicts would find themselves signing a petition to keep coffee out of Beacon, or more specifically, out of Professor Oobleck. Apparently he became 'cool', and down with 'da kidz'.

According to Ironwood, he just became a bit of an asshole. And unfortunately, the parents of some of the more… disruptive warriors-in-training agreed.

Typically, one would think that if a parent is sending their child off to learn how to merciless slaughter things that go bump in the night, the general conditions of the lessons wouldn't be that big a deal so long as they stuck to certain guidelines. Ozpin had certainly had that thought when he had first taken the position of Headmaster… but maybe it was best to keep in mind that Ozpin wasn't exactly what most people would call 'in touch' with some aspects of reality.

Ozpin made his own rules. People knew not to fuck with Ozpin and his rules.

Unfortunately, overly concerned parents _also_ made their own rules. And they were some of the loudest people to ever exist.

Far below his office, a coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) sailed across the courtyard. Ozpin tapped his cane against the ground for lack of anything better to do, not turning away from the window as the doors to the elevator leading to his office opened.

"Ah, Barty." How he divined the identity of his latest guest was a mystery of the ages. He must have used some method of magical power befitting only that of a protagonist of a child's bedtime story. He certainly didn't just look at the reflection in the window due to having faced the window for the last five minutes simply so he could speak cryptically and uphold the mysterious image that he liked to perpetrate, shut up. "Please, take a seat."

Bartholomew Oobleck walked into the office like a man who had yet to actually wake up. Pulling a chair from under the desk, he settled his arms on the table, blinking blearily up at the headmaster of the esteemed Beacon Academy. "I'd rather stand."

"Wouldn't we all?" Ozpin took a sip from his mug; his empty mug. A thin wave of dust cascaded down his throat. Turning away from the window, he took a deep, fortifying breath and claimed his own seat, surreptitiously wiping the excess moisture from his eyes. "You must be wondering why I called you up here so early in the morning?"

Oobleck's forehead managed to get a solid few centimetres off the desk before it crashed back down with a hollow thud.

"Coffee?" He muttered in what could have been a hopeful tone.

Ozpin glanced down at the mug still in his hand, heaving a deep sigh and placing it out of conventional reach on his desk. The answer to the question was both obvious and too depressing to say out loud. "I've just spent the entire night and much of the morning locked in conversation with Beacon's Board of Directors."

"My condolences," Oobleck murmured into the wood beneath his mouth.

"Nothing could make me feel better, but I appreciate the effort." Calmly fishing a pen off his desk, Ozpin threw it off to the side, where it impaled a poster of a man wearing a stuffy looking suit. Some of the weight lifted from his shoulders; alright, so maybe there were things that could make him feel better. "Not naming any names, but certain people have expressed concern for how I decide whom to employ, and have made some unreasonable demands through the correct legal channels."

"They're abiding by the rules?" Oobleck finally peeled his face off the desk, looking a little bit more alive than he had when he'd first entered the room. It wasn't too surprising; in a world where the strong survived and running labour camps were how you got anywhere in the world, running things through the legal channels meant only one thing.

Attention. Very deliberate public attention.

"…Oh dear."

"Indeed." Ozpin lifted his glasses from his face in order to rub his tired eyes. He was no stranger to applying force in order to get his way, and being on the receiving end of it so often and for so long had built a tolerance and reputation few could hope to match. Headmaster of the illustrious Beacon Academy; an accomplished Huntsman of such prestige and capability that the mere appearance of his Semblance could be considered a sermon of the end times. "The battle was long and hard fought, but in the end I was only able to reduce the sentence to a full year."

His position wasn't crucial, but it was certainly important. His political standing was something that, for the sake of the world, could not be jeopardised.

"I'm afraid… you will have to seek alternate employment in that time period, effective immediately."

In much the same vein as Bartholomew Oobleck wasn't merely an employee, but also a treasured friend.

Said treasured friend was giving him a blank look, not unlike a student faced with a problem they had no idea of solving. Without the necessary Barty experience, Ozpin had his doubts that even he would have been able to see the gears turning beneath that untamed vines the historian called hair "…I see."

Oobleck was out of his seat and halfway to the door before Ozpin got the chance to open his mouth. Not surprising; they'd been in similar situations before, but never had it been quite this official. Normally it was a concerned caretaker of arbitrary political standing, not a coordinated assault of lawyers and other pompous positions that had never seen a Grimm in their life.

Still, he couldn't leave the meeting on _those_ terms.

No matter the opposition, the Headmaster of the illustrious Beacon Academy made his own rules.

"Now, Barty, before you leave…" Oobleck's foot halted mid-air, the man somehow keeping his balance as he twisted at the waist to raise an eyebrow in Ozpin's general direction. If the both of them hadn't been suffering from a prolonged lack of caffeine, Ozpin may have been somewhat insulted at the lack of faith. As it stood, his smile merely held the barest shade of mischief as he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and hooked the handle of a suspicious looking suitcase with his trusty cane.

"I would like to ask a favour of you." With all the grace of a mob boss from a black and white film, Ozpin unlatched the case, opening the lid only as far as it needed to go before it could fall the rest of the way. "You see, I have all this lien in the bottom of my desk, saved up and equal to about a year's worth of your salary, I believe. I have no purpose for any of it, so would you perhaps mind taking a portion of it off my hands every week or so? Also, I don't want the student running out of things to do while you're away, so if you wouldn't mind sitting in on a few lessons every week and maybe talking to them about your passions, I would very much appreciate it."

Oobleck blinked twice, his lips taking their time as they slowly twisted into a very particular smile. It was an expression Ozpin had last seen on his face over a year ago, when Peter had insisted that just because there was a rule against mixing _alcohol_ into the fruit punch at the graduation after-party, that didn't mean he wasn't fully within his rights while… _repurposing_ three full bottles of _liquors_.

Because while a certain someone going against his son's wishes had gathered his allies together and protested Bartholomew's employment, they'd had absolutely nothing to say about where the man would stay or what he would do to pass his time.

It was almost like they wanted their loopholes to be exploited.

Oobleck shook his head once. Just once was sufficient to convey exactly what he was feeling, especially when in conjunction with the small smirk he was sporting. "Searching for employment could take up much of my time, but I shall do my best, Headmaster."

With a final nod, Bartholomew continued on his way to the elevator, no doubt planning to make his way down to Vale in search of a coffee shop that hadn't been forced to close mysteriously. Even with his information network, Ozpin had no clue how the students were managing that particular project. He just chose to be happy with the immense amounts of teamwork they were showcasing while doing his best to not break down crying over their shared goal.

Reaching for his mug, Ozpin caught himself just before his fingertips could brush against it, feeling the moisture build in his eyes once more and he threaded his fingers and pretended everything would be fine.

"…Excellent."

He wasn't fooling anyone.

 **XxX**

Life as a Grimm in the forest of Forever Fall was a pretty sweet gig.

Being an Ursa Major in the forest of Forever Fall was an even sweeter gig. Mostly due to that diet of red sap that could be sustained from the trees in the deeper sections.

Sometimes, however, there were days when things wouldn't quite go to plan. Seeing as the plan on most days was to merely eat red sap and lounge on comfortable piles of leaves, having such a simple schedule be thrown off would be cause for alarm no matter who the victim was.

Yes, that even extended to our stalwart Grimm point of view character for this moment, whom for convenience sake shall be referred to from this point forth as Cuddles. Cuddles spent his days eating red sap and lounging around on comfortable piles of leaves, mainly because he lacked the opposable thumbs necessary to hold down a job for very long. And also because he liked to eat people. Because he was an Ursa Major.

Savvy? Good, let's move on.

Cuddles awoke that day like any other day; surrounded by lesser Ursai who only kissed up to him because he was the coolest guy in the forest. You know the types, they still walk around on four legs at all times and had never chewed through a layer of Aura in their lives.

Cuddles had no time for such basic bitches. So he packed up his claws, kicked the groupie who looked the least unconscious in the head, and was promptly on his way.

Cuddles knew his fan-club would catch up to him soon. Useless at life as they were, when it came to following around the one in the forest who had all the real skillz, their tracking ability was absurdly good. If they had ever shown any indication of being worth the oxygen they wasted on themselves in any other instance, Cuddles probably wouldn't have felt like he was the butt of some cosmic joke.

Cuddles was old, but he wasn't old enough to garner knowledge about the world outside his forest. So while he _felt_ like the butt of a cosmic joke, he didn't quite _know_ he was the butt of a cosmic joke. Baby steps, and all that. But that's beside the point.

What wasn't beside the point (some would say it was entirely the point itself) was the group of two-legs that Cuddles had just stumbled across while enjoying the view through two trees. They looked tasty, a nice palette cleanser for all the already delicious red sap he was used to consuming, but a second look revealed to him the weapons each were in possession of.

There was a lot of sharp shit on display on that forest path.

Cuddles didn't feel like being poked today. But, being the curious, almost sentient creature that he was, he decided to bunker down under the cover of the undergrowth and observe this strange exodus of… what did they call themselves? Oh, never mind.

The tail end of the group consisted of four hairless things, each looking more ridiculous than the last. Their clothing looked heavy and tough, but if Cuddles were a gambling bear, he'd put down his life savings on that little group being the easiest pray out of all of them.

The one with long, yellow hair was next in line. She smelled both divine and absolutely terrifying, though the look she was directing at the feline in front of her was definitely odd. The weapon being held by the small one was perhaps the scariest he'd seen in his long life, and a shiver went down his spine as he took in the impractical clothing being worn by the last of the group.

The third group looked interesting, but Cuddles' attention was diverted to the man and woman leading the way. They were… powerful. Inherently, scarily, mind-numbingly powerful. The kind of powerful that Cuddles had been lucky to escape once in the past, and only by the skin of his serrated teeth at that.

…Yeah, this congregation of morsels could pass through unmolested.

"Yes, students, the forest of Forever Fall is indeed beautiful. But, we are not here to sight-see! Professor Peach has asked all of you to collect samples from the trees deep inside this forest, and I'm here to make sure that none of you die while doing so. Each of you is to gather one jar's worth of red sap. However, this forest is filled with the creatures of Grimm, so be sure to stay by your teammates. We will rendezvous back here in two hours' time. Oh, and have fun."

None of the words the female monster was saying made all that much sense to Cuddles; he was too busy silently shitting himself upon noticing the green haired male's gaze being directed exactly where he was standing. He was frozen as the eyes shifted colour from the sky to the earth, only releasing the breath he had been holding in his ursine lungs as the little one with the most ridiculous pattern atop his head raised a hand and said… something.

"I no longer have the luxury of needing to grade homework in my spare time and I know for certain that one of you is useless. Therefore, I'm here to study the local flora while making sure the school doesn't get sued over the death of little Frankenstein or whatever other stupid name your parents managed to come up with."

General sounds of assent sounded from the clearing at that, and slowly, groups began to break away from one another. None were heading in Cuddles' direction, thankfully, and the Ursa Major lowered himself to all four paws as his somewhat developed brain went over what he knew.

Vaguely, he wondered if it would be imperative to warn the other Ursa in the forest of this intrusion, but the thought was soon discarded. The others hadn't lived for as long as he; if they were to have any chance to do so, they couldn't know, for if they did then they would go on the hunt. They had no conscious thought like he did, they hadn't been around long enough for that. Annoying as they were, Cuddles had no plans of endangering their lives like that.

With his footsteps as light as he could make them, Cuddles turned around, intent on making his way further into his territory and hunt down a nice tree to steal breakfast from. He hadn't eaten since early in the previous evening, and the longer he stood around, the greater the chances of his stomach giving him away grew.

He certainly hadn't expected the green haired man to be standing a scant few meters away from him.

Cuddles froze with one leg in the air, unsure of how to proceed. He didn't want to attack; without a group to back him up he would be slaughtered. But if he wasn't the one to charge, then the two-legs in front of him would.

Both he and the human blinked at the exact same time.

Cuddles' life flashed before his eyes in that moment.

He had no idea what to do.

The human slowly raised an arm, hand splayed out and twitching ever so slightly side to side.

"Greetings."

His eyes wide and eyebrows raised as best as his biology would allow, Cuddles did the only thing he could do.

He raised a paw and clumsily returned the gesture.

"Grargh."

 **XxX**

Four cups of coffee and three Red Bulls later, a chapter has been completed.

I'm literally vibrating right now.

Send help.

(I've decided to cross-post my stories to SpaceBattles, so if you wanna go over there and theory craft, chat, yell at me through the computer to get off my ass and actually write new chapters, feel free.)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I lost this chapter to a computer crash. And then I found it again. And then I added a couple of thousand words and then I released it.

This got added to a Community. I am suitably baffled, but pleased.

I'm too tired to write anything else. Enjoy!

* * *

It was loneliest in the world at the very top.

That was how it had been for as long as society could remember. Sometimes, it was by design, and other times through ignorance. Individuals would form groups, those groups would form communities, and those communities would soon enough be erecting pillars beneath talented individuals. The rest of their constructs would follow along, and before anyone had realised what had happened, those pillars would be walled off and their mounts forced to suffer the isolation that came with their position.

Once that happened, there was no turning back.

In order to break out, the person atop the pedestal would be risking the integrity of everything built upon them. It went beyond their lives unless they made their attempts early, before the structure had time to grow, and hardly any were ever not drunk enough on their success to understand that. Breaking it on the outside would almost always be due to malicious motives, which would then plunge everything into disarray regardless and leave whoever had been targeted with nothing beyond the rubble they could salvage.

At the top, you would have money, influence, and power. At the top, you could have anything you could ever take from another person, but never would anything they had to offer be genuine. Respect could not be presented or reciprocated, not when it was tainted with blind adoration. Company could not be sustained, as jealousy for he or she whom had managed to climb the pillar would strain any potential relationship, or abolish it altogether.

Sometimes, such as when you had indirectly garnered a reputation as untouchable because you were just _that damn good_ , the reality was that nobody ever truly had the courage to try.

But as Pyrrha Nikos had learned recently, reality in this crazy, messed up world of Remnant was wont to change on a dime. For the better, for the worse, and occasionally for the ultimately neutral.

Her hopes had been high upon enrolling into Beacon Academy. It was in a different Kingdom, a different culture; full of different people who would have different pastimes. It was a chance to make friends. It was a chance to study subjects beyond simply fighting to overcome an opponent.

It was a chance to finally be _normal_.

Unfortunately, Pyrrha's reputation of being untouchable didn't quite apply to one thing; her reputation. Because that had been touched on the moment she'd stepped out of the bullhead, in the form of a fainting fan and a request for an autograph. She'd smiled, complied, and silently despaired as she set course for Beacon and did her best to ignore everything around her, to not give into the ingrained urge of smiling and offering a wave as people continued to call her name.

Her hope had effectively been dashed against the rocks. Provided she could pass whatever Beacon had set up for initiation (and of course she would, she wouldn't fail after coming all this way), she had practically guaranteed herself close to half a decade of the behaviour she was used to receiving… in close quarters and narrow hallways. It had been a very long time since she had last cried, but upon that realisation, the temptation had been powerful.

But like the Champion she had consistently proven herself to be, Pyrrha had kept her head high in the face of loneliness. Initially, the only person who had been brave enough to approach her on that first day had been Weiss… and no offence to the heiress, but Pyrrha would have much preferred the screaming fans.

And then _he_ had stumbled into her life. He had been… she would hesitate to refer to his actions as bravery, but he had approached, and he had been the first person in years to need to be told her name.

The only indication he'd ever had of her existence had been a cereal box. Wasn't that just ultimately curious?

He'd been easy enough to claim as a partner. He'd shown some aptitude for his weaponry during initiation, though not nearly at the level she would have expected from a Beacon hopeful. He'd warmed her heart, provided her with her fair share of scares, and been her introduction into the first group she could sincerely call friends.

Amazingly enough, he also never gave her the slightest indication of being aware of what he was doing. Such obliviousness to his surroundings would more than likely get him brutally murdered out in the field one day, but he simply lived his life, all the while vicariously granting her everything she had been missing in hers. It would be some time before she could claim to have earned his trust implicitly, what with the many things he still refused to tell her, but he was already more than deserving of hers.

So when Pyrrha walked around a tree to find herself a scant few feet from the edge of a very high cliff, she didn't jump when she heard Jaune calling her name. She simply looked to where his voice had come from, and raised a single eyebrow as he waved a hand that wasn't cradling three full jars of sap to his chest, from the tallest branch of an already tall tree.

"What are you doing up there?" She felt no need to ask him how he had gotten up there, the gouges that were approximately exactly the width of Crocea Mors' blade were indication enough. He smiled down at her, making her knees weaken an infinitesimal amount at the joints, as he gestured to the empty jar sitting beside him on his tree branch.

"Nora said the sap tastes better the higher up on the tree. This was the tallest tree I could find." Leaning forth the slightest amount, Jaune let his arm fall loose, dropping the sap jars into Pyrrha's waiting hands. His intent had been clear enough, as had the fact that he likely wasn't ever going to get out of the tree while keeping three glass jars in one piece each. "Those are for Nora. Figured it would distract her long enough for Ren to fill up his own jar."

Pyrrha chanced a glance down at the jars; each looked full enough for the lid to have to contest for room. She looked back up to the top branch, raising her eyebrow in spite of the fact that Jaune had turned back to the tree's trunk. "What about you?"

"I still have to fill mine, and this spot's running low on sap." Pyrrha opened her mouth, an offer to wait on her lips. The words caught themselves in her throat when Jaune sent her a wink, cocking his head to the side slightly. It took Pyrrha a second to realise he was gesturing back the way she had come. "I'll catch up, don't worry. You guys are west, right?"

"If you're sure." Pyrrha readjusted the jars in her grip; it was easy enough when there was only three; she'd managed to escape with hers and hand it off to Professor Goodwitch before Nora had gotten it within her sights. Jaune sent her another smile, teetered on his branch slightly as a small breeze blew through the area, and waved off her concern with the hand that was holding his empty jar. "…I'll go give these to Nora, then. Ren will likely want to send his regards."

She could get there and back in five minutes. Surely, that was a time window small enough to not allow Jaune the chance to hurt himself somehow.

…Not that she didn't have faith in her partner. She'd merely seen him seen him wake up one morning, get nailed in the side of the head by a bird that had gotten into their room through the window Ren had left open the previous night, and slam face-first into the bed-post hard enough to almost give himself a concussion, which then lead her to the entirely logical and likely correct conclusion that the universe didn't have faith in her partner.

"I hope so! This tree wasn't very easy to climb." She was already hurrying away when he started talking once more. Not lack of faith, lack of faith in lack of faith. Or… something. "I still don't know how I'll get down without just jumping and letting my Aura deal with it."

"Please do not do that!" Pyrrha called over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes through the canopy above her head at the splash of yellow she knew to be Jaune's hair. She was almost tempted to nail him to a tree to ensure his safety for the second time in the same semester.

…

Well…

Her hand strayed to the weapon in question, before she slapped it away. How she managed all that while cuddling three jars to her bosom was a mystery for the ages. Turning on her heel, she made her way through the trees with moderate haste, at one point having to turn entirely off course to avoid a group of Ursa that were sniffing at the trees and… whining, perhaps?

A sudden gust of wind blew across her face, mussing her hair and dropping a few strands into her eyes.

She would only find out later exactly _why_ her stomach felt like it had fallen out from underneath her in that moment.

 **XxX**

For the third time in five minutes, Dove tripped over a root. His head hit the tree that Sky had just used to fill his jar, his own thankfully bouncing when he released it to stop himself from falling flat on his face.

"For the love of God, Dove, open your eyes."

Dove rolled onto his back, so he could cross his arms comfortably. A breath released from his nostrils filled the otherwise quiet clearing, sending birds flying from their trees in shock. Red leaves, scattered by the disruption, fell about Dove in a perfect outline of his body, and the stress lines disappeared from his face as a single blossoming flower landed on his forehead.

He would never open his eyes. For it was to be his destiny in the near future to be a wise old master and disperse wisdom upon the younger generations, and to do so while his eyes were open would be an insult to the long held archetype he'd strived so long towards becoming.

Dove shook his head, doing his best not to disrupt the flower that had settled there. Dove had his plans. Dove had his reasons. Dove had his dreams and his ambitions, and to open his eyes would be to taint himself with the sight of the world.

It was when he was but a wee lad-

"You're silently monologuing again, aren't you?"

 ** _IT WAS WHEN HE WAS BUT A WEE LAD_** … that his outlook on life had changed.

"Guys, Dove's monologuing again. Let's just move on, he'll find us later."

HE-! … He… had come from one of the Kingdoms. He didn't know which Kingdom it was, because he had never opened his eyes to look at the signs. He had been the target of bullies, for why would he want to be an old man when he was a young boy? That was madness, but the other children could never understand. They had yet to start planning for their future. They had yet to realise that Dove _was_ the future.

The opportunity to be one with the bullies had arisen, and like any wise old mentor with a tragic backstory and motivation to repent for their past sins, Dove had taken it. He received a sword. He got good at that sword. He killed his first Grimm. He soiled himself a little bit during, but the stain could be passed off as mud and he had jumped into a river before anyone had detected the smell.

Throughout it all, he had never opened his eyes. Because he had been too busy seeing _everything_.

He had seen people sitting in front of computer screens, reading through his ham-fisted backstory and thinking to themselves how unnecessary it all was. He had seen the future erase itself and be born anew, with only the caffeine supply to a certain building being shut down. He had seen a coffee cup (that had a pretty blue flower on the front) become a new overlord to be respected and feared, mostly feared. He had seen a vibrant red dress make questionable decisions and a pair of glasses standing amidst a burning pyre of green and red.

Nobody had believed him when he told them. The mocking had begun anew. He'd saved himself in due time by admitting that the vibrant red dress was being worn by an extremely attractive lady, a fact that had distracted his fellows from the situation at hand because they were but growing boys and easily malleable to the ways of their hormones. It was entirely the truth, yes, but it didn't change the fact that his friends were kind of idiots.

And if he wanted some true regrets in life to fuel his later motivations, Dove would have to stick with them.

It was only when he got to Beacon that he could make the ultimate mistake. The most egregious error of his life, short of going out of his way to harm another person directly. The illustrious Beacon Academy would allow him to commit the most inadmissible sin available to him-

Alright, so it wasn't that bad. But befriending Cardin Winchester, otherwise known as the biggest dickhead in the school, could only be a good thing for his future students. Yes, people may have looked down on him by proxy of the company he kept, but weren't the most heroic of heroes born from the oppression of the masses?

But it hadn't even reached the end of the first term before the first obstacle and latest in his recent motivations reared its supposedly exceedingly attractive head.

Dove rubbed his hands together and grinned. The woodland creatures that had gathered around him, hopeful that he had died recently so the meat would be fresh, began to leave en mass in disappointment.

Doctor Oobleck, now there was a man who could keep the masses entertained and educated. He'd allowed the man to continue unobstructed, and had lost his main source of events that he would come to rue in time, but in turn gained invaluable information in what it meant to teach people younger than himself.

Besides, if we ended up that desperate for remorse, he could always just feed another student to a Grimm or something. Hell, he could do that anyway, just to really make him feel bad about himself.

It was at this point that Dove would have muttered a quip to one of his teammates, forgetting that he wasn't actually all that funny, and waited in awkward silence until one of them coughed and changed the subject. But he had also recently decided to give up talking, mainly because he didn't like his voice.

I-I mean because it was mysterious! And-and people loved a mysterious mentor who… ah fuck it.

Dove frowned at the tirade, as if someone out there gave a damn about his feelings on the matter, before pushing himself into a sitting position. The squirrel that had been advancing on him from the side quickly waved and darted back into the bushes, prompting the deer that had been about to trample him to panic and attempt an escape.

Dove didn't question why something slammed into the tree in front of him. He sniffed the air cautiously, confirming his team were headed downwind via the B.O that Russel so graciously left behind for him after every shower he forgot to take, and hopped to his feet.

He tripped over an insensate deer on his way out of the clearing. His face slammed into the tree the deer had run into, knocking a squirrel off the branch he had been sitting on. Dove pushing himself back to his feet, shook himself off, and took a step. His foot accidentally connected with the squirrel mid-air, sending it hurtling at something approaching Mach speed into the jugular of the Beowolf that had been attempting to sneak up on him through some bushes.

Dove continued on, unaware as the Beowolf managed to throw the squirrel from its heavily bleeding throat. It lunged at his back, jaws open wide, and the tree that had been slammed into by two different beatings in as many minutes chose that moment to topple over. A pleasant breeze budged Dove a step to the side, the Beowolf's jaws missing him by a hair and the tree that came toppling down on top of the Beowolf missing him by the skin of his teeth.

Doze hummed a pleasant tune to himself as he bounced off another tree, only barely catching the scream from ahead of him and the voices that followed it.

"-a tree? What was he doing in a tree?"

"Collecting sap, dumbass. Ugh, of all the times for someone to fall out of a tree and off a cliff-"

"Did you really just say that sentence?"

"Shut up, Russel, it applies. Just… go get Goodwitch or Oobleck. Sky, you're with me. We're already here, may as well get the body before it gets eaten by Grimm. Dove, you… where's Dove?"

Dove waved his arms above his head, not aware of the sheer drop he was heading towards. He smacked off another tree like a pinball, his flailing limbs evading Sky's attempt to grab him before he could take another step. The ground that had been beneath his feet decided to quit on him, and he toppled over what his team must have been referring to as the cliff with naught a "how-do-you-do?"

Three different exclamations followed after him. One of worry, one of worry and annoyance, and one of inquiry as to why he was still neglecting to open his eyes.

Throughout it all, he never dropped his jar.

 **XxX**

Cuddles wasn't entirely sure how it happened.

Had he been told years ago that he would get into this sort of predicament with a human, he likely would have understood none of the words being directed at him, and made an honest effort to eat whatever was intruding on his territory. Hell, had he been told that he would get into this sort of predicament with a human the previous night, he still would have eaten whoever made it a point to talk to him, but he would have been laughing all the while.

Now, however, the world was laughing at him. Because here he stood, on his hind legs, morosely dipping a claw into the jar of sap he had been given by the strange green human, while the human in question stood atop his shoulders, filling another jar that would likely amount to his own breakfast.

It was hardly a bad set-up, all things considered. Cuddles _was_ still getting his breakfast, which consisted of a larger helping of sap than he was ever able to get without whatever tool the human was using. And it was from the top of the tree, too, which was always where the sap was the tastiest. Many an Ursa had damaged themselves to the point of death while foolishly attempting to reach the tasty sap. And Cuddle had just had it _given_ to him.

He'd needed to give the human a boost, of course. Tall as he was, he was nowhere near tall enough to reach the good sap depository on the tree they had met in front of. But he was an Ursa Major, the toughest creature likely to be found in this part of the woods, and damn it all if he wasn't smarter than the average bear. The human could be dancing atop his skull and screaming mating calls in his ear and Cuddles would still be getting the better end of this bargain.

The sap was just that damn good.

Cuddles had already decided that he would let the man go uneaten. It had been decided before he had been fed, because the green human was _fucking terrifying_ , but now he had a reason rather than an excuse.

He honestly couldn't even recall how it had come to this. The two of them had stared at one another for a very long moment, waiting on the other to make the first move. Next thing Cuddles knew, he was pointing out where the tastiest sap was, the human somehow understood him, and then he had a flesh bag on his shoulders, handing him his food for the morning.

He was content to just sit against the trunk of the tree, and let the human have his fun. His stomach was full, his jar only half empty, and he was staring at the startled green eyes of the woman he had seen earlier and _oh dear this probably wouldn't end well_.

Cuddles wasn't used to feeling helpless. He was used to being around others who felt helpless, because finding any Grimm in these woods that had evolved to the point of being able to think of ways around problems would be a more difficult undertaking than him completing the enrolment process for that school that was situated not too far from here.

Be that as it may, it still gave him no options in the current situation. The human on his shoulders hadn't noticed the interruption, but once he did, Cuddles was doomed. The best exit in this scenario, the one that wouldn't require him to make any turns, was being blocked by the female. Effectively, he was trapped, and probably dead too if nothing came to his rescue.

Cuddles blinked slowly at the woman, rotating his neck to stare at the backside of the man on his shoulders. Turning slowly back to the woman, Cuddles slumped further into the tree, dipping his claw back into his jar of sap. Yep, he was doomed, but he wasn't going to be going out on an empty stomach.

"BARTHOLOMEW!"

Cuddles' claw stilled. That wasn't his name… was it?

The man on Cuddles' shoulders didn't so much as twitch at the interruption, but the way his breath hitched the tiniest bit and the way he was the only other person in the clearing (unless the woman was yelling at herself) was evidence enough for Cuddles. He was in the presence of a Bartholomew. Excellent.

This changed nothing.

"Just a moment, Glynda." The man called back, in a voice Cuddles would call pleasant. He wasn't able to enjoy it, however, due to the stick that had been jabbed in his direction.

Slowly, he withdrew his claw from his jar or sap, and licked it clean.

He then held the jar out to the woman, tilting it to the side ever so slightly and shaking it in a way he hoped would attract her attention. He didn't want to give up his breakfast, but maybe if he did share, the human would feel indebted to him and let him leave her presence without brutally murdering him.

It was a long shot, certainly. And she didn't look like she was going to take the offer.

The standoff wasn't as tense as the first one to take place in the clearing, though that probably had something to do with the fact that Bartholomew was still standing on Cuddles' shoulders, rendering him slightly less intimidating. The two stared at each other, breath held, waiting for the slightest movement to ignite a spark that would only end in victory for one-

Another human crashed into the clearing, out of breath if their panting was any indication. Annoyed, Cuddles withdrew his leg, sullenly sticking his claw back into the sap. The new human looked between everyone present, his eyes landing on Cuddles and his forward momentum dying in an instant.

"Uh…" Seeing the attention he was receiving, the new human began shuffling backwards, perfectly re-enacting his entrance of the clearing in reverse. "Dove and Arc fell off a cliff, but I can see you're busy, so I'll come back… later…"

The clearing fell into an odd silence. It wasn't so much a lack of noise than the existence of a bubble of entropy settling around them.

That bubble was quickly popped when Bartholomew descended Cuddles' shoulders, his jar safely sealed and held in one hand.

"Excellent quality sap, well done Cuddles! Now, Glynda, what was it you wished to speak to me about?"

Cuddles almost groaned. His only shield against the person who wanted to kill him the most right now was the person he currently found the most terrifying.

He was really beginning to regret not staying behind with his meat shields. Friends.

Nope, meat shields.


End file.
